


Going Off Together

by soongtypeprincess



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bittersweet, Closing the bookshop, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Leaving Soho, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sad, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: It wasn’t quite empty yet, of course. Aziraphale’s collection was 200 years worth, after all, so there would have to be many trips back to London to collect them. In the meantime, he put a protective shield over the shop so that passersby wouldn’t see it.The shop wouldn’t be hidden; people just wouldn’t notice it. Much like before. Only true book lovers had noticed the shop, perhaps a bit too much.It wasn’t the customers he would miss, however.





	Going Off Together

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS.

Crowley took the box from Aziraphale and placed it in the Bentley. 

“That the last of it?” he asked. “Well…I know it’s not the  _last_ , but the last of what will fit? I can’t miracle this car any bigger, angel.”

“No, this will do for now, darling,” Aziraphale told him. “Thank you.”

He turned away as Crowley shut the boot of the car and gazed at the book shop. 

It wasn’t quite empty yet, of course. Aziraphale’s collection was 200 years worth, after all, so there would have to be many trips back to London to collect them. In the meantime, he put a protective shield over the shop so that passersby wouldn’t see it.

The shop wouldn’t be hidden; people just wouldn’t notice it. Much like before. Only true book lovers had noticed the shop, perhaps a bit too much.

It wasn’t the customers he would miss, however. 

“You ready, then?” 

Crowley’s voice shook him out of his reverie and his voice, to his own surprise, cracked when he answered, “Y-yes. I am.”

He got into the passenger seat and shut the door, and he looked down at his folded hands as Crowley took his place behind the wheel.

But the Bentley did not spring to life.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes began to burn and he couldn’t move. It wasn’t until Crowley touched his hand that he turned away and looked at the shop again through the car window.

He choked back a sob and pressed the back of his free hand to his lips as he looked up at the sign reading “A. Z. Fell and Co. - Antiquarian and Unusual Books.”

Crowley smirked and sighed, squeezing his hand. “Take as long as you want, love.”

Aziraphale let the sob escape him and his shoulders trembled as he covered his eyes. Small wails left him as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he wept.

“Don’t be,” Crowley said. “Can hardly blame you, actually.”

“It’s just…” he paused and took his handkerchief from his coat pocket. He dabbed his cheeks with it. “This has been my home for 200 years. My hideaway, you know?” He sniffed and looked back at Crowley. “Yours, as well.”

Crowley smiled. “In every sense, yeah.” His throat suddenly drew tight. “Soho’s been good to you.”

“It has, dear.” 

He laced his fingers with Crowley’s and sighed. 

“You could have sold it, angel. Have someone else look after your books.”

Aziraphale huffed. “That’s just it, love. They’re  _my_  books. A new owner wouldn’t look after them; they would just sell them at any price and then they’d be scattered everywh–”

His voice caught again and felt Crowley kiss his hand. 

Crowley let him have another long cry, but then he said, “Do you remember the night, when we were so drunk, that I—?”

“We were always so drunk, dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling through his tears.

“Fair enough, but that one particular night I remember…I don’t know what started it, maybe you dared me. You can be quite a bastard after a few bottles of that Penfolds.”

“Oh, no, I think I remember what night you’re referring to.” He snickered. “You turned into a snake after the third bottle and…oh, Crowley, my Lord…”

“I couldn’t change back for hours! I tried! But the alcohol…yeesh!”

Aziraphale was giggling now. “Then when you finally turned back to your human…shell, or what have you…haha…your tail would  _not_ go away!”

“Blimey!” Crowley groaned.

“It was just…” Aziraphale’s laughter got louder. “It was…sticking out the back of your trousers! Haha! It was so adorable!”

“It was bloody awkward, angel!” 

They took a moment to calm themselves from their sudden merriment and sighed in unison.

“Just say the word, my angel.”

Aziraphale looked at him again, confused. “What?”

“We don’t have to go to South Downs. If leaving the shop is going to continue breaking your heart, I don’t think I could ever forg–” 

Crowley stopped and cleared his throat again. “Live with myself.”

“Oh, darling.” Aziraphale leaned over and cupped his face in his hands, kissing him gently. “I  _want_ to go with you.”

Crowley closed his eyes and nuzzled into his angel’s left hand. 

“Say that again.”

Aziraphale let out a light giggle and pressed his forehead against his.

“I want to go with you, and I  _will_  go with you.”

Crowley opened his eyes and they kissed once more. “Need another minute?”

Aziraphale leaned back into his seat and wiped his eyes. Putting his handkerchief back into his inner coat pocket, he gave another quick glance to the shop.

“No need for another minute, I suppose,” he said. “We’ll have to return for the rest of the books, anyhow. I’ll shed my tears for the final trip.”

“You shed as much as you want, angel.”

The Bentley revved up and Aziraphale gave the shop a discreet wave as they pulled into the street.


End file.
